


Crime of Opportunity

by shopfront



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Dates, M/M, Mick to the Rescue, Moving In Together, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 02:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: Ray likes to tell people he's great at making decisions. Really, he is. They absolutely never go pear shaped and they always turn out really well, like when he set up Palmer Tech. That was a great decision. He's not so sure how inviting a known criminal to live with him is going to work out, but he's fairly certain it's also going to be just great. He has a good feeling about it.(The No Superheroes, and Mick planned to rob him before saving his life but Ray thinks suggesting they become fake boyfriends is a great idea anyway, AU)





	Crime of Opportunity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Themisto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themisto/gifts).



Mick had been half-heartedly casing the place for a few nights when he noticed that the foyer was empty. 

It wasn’t exactly high on his list of dream jobs, but most of his crew were conspicuously vacationing near places he’d rather steal from and there’d been a few flinty eyes when they’d insisted Mick needed a break, too. So here he was. Casing a relatively boring technology company that occasionally delved into fun gadgets that Mick thought he might be able to attach to his latest flame-thrower prototype.

Not the most thrilling of activities, but staking the place out passed the time until everyone stopped harping on about him needing a vacation. Especially when the entrance suddenly appeared to be empty when it was most definitely not meant to be. 

Frowning, he checked the time on his watch, and then resumed furrowing his brow at the building. Palmer Tech was meant to have round the clock security placed at all visible entrances, and yet, there was… no-one.

Standing up, Mick walked over to the window for a wider view; there still wasn’t a soul in sight, other than a homeless person curled up near the corner. After shoving up the window pane and leaning out to canvas the street properly, still there was nothing and nobody. Even shortly after midnight, that was weird. He stared across the street and down the four stories between him and the main facade for a long minute in silence.

Then he shrugged, reached for his gun and slung a bag across his shoulder, and headed for the stairs.

He kept it casual as he crossed the street, but when nobody came running when he pushed open the glass doors he let a little swagger enter his step. When there was nobody behind the front desk, through the security gates, or around the corner near the elevators he just shrugged and perused the sign describing which floors housed which departments. By the time the elevator dinged at his chosen floor, he was whistling.

However, when the elevator doors opened to the sound of a few angry voices yelling, the occasional warning gun shot, and the faint sound of someone whimpering, he abruptly went silent.

“Oh, hell-“ he started to say. He was already reaching for the close doors button when a masked person walked in front of the elevator, double took at him, and then yanked him out by his shirt front. 

“Who the hell are you?” the person yelled, attempting to shake him by the grip they had on his clothing and only getting more worked up when it failed.

“So much for some down time,” Mick grumbled, and then clocked them over the head. Hard.

A few more masked faces turned to stare at him as their colleague slumped to the floor. Then they all raised their guns as one and all hell broke loose, and Mick suddenly found himself behind an overturned table surrounded by a handful of very scared people in suits.

Including one very familiar face. The CEO of the company he’d been intending to rob.

Dammit.

“Where did you come from?” Ray Palmer asked a little wildly, staring blankly at Mick until another exploding window pane made him yelp and duck further down for cover. 

“The elevator,” Mick responded in his best ‘no duh’ tone, before steeling himself and peering back out just far enough to send a spray of bullets back in response.

“The elevator?” he heard Ray repeat helplessly behind him, but he just grunted and kept shooting, only stopping to fish extra ammo out of his bag one-handed and reload. “Who are-“

“Mick,” he said with a glare. “Now shut up and stay down. Or don’t, whatever.”

*

By the time security arrived with police in tow from wherever they had all been hiding while Mick did their jobs, it was all over. Most of the suits were shaking in their shiny shoes and huddled together surveying the wreckage that gave the faint appearance of having once been a rather flashy boardroom. Only one lone side table had survived the assault, and Mick’s eyes lit up when he realised that it was the snack table that had apparently made it through unscathed.

“Wimps,” Mick muttered under his breath as he walked over to it under their disbelieving gazes. A few people jumped when he passed them, making him snicker.

“Excuse me?” Ray asked, coming up beside him and also surveying the damage around them.

Mick just gave him a derisive side glance and snorted. This one wasn’t shaking in his boots, sure, but he was still a suit. Before he could come up with something suitably cutting to say, however, they were interrupted by a trembling assistant. He gazed at them both with wide eyes as he explained - at needless length with many detours while Mick sighed and rolled his eyes - that the police were questioning everyone potentially suspicious who was in the building without authorisation and needed to speak to Mick.

“How dare you,” Ray said, voice climbing with each word, “try and accuse the man who just defended a dozen hostages and myself of suspicious behaviour. Mick saved our lives!”

The assistant gaped at them for a moment in shock, before hurriedly rushing to explain himself. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he stammered, looking incredibly flustered as his eyes darted between them and he backed away. “We thought- I’ll sort out the confusion right away. I really am so sorry for the assumption, Mr. Palmer.”

Ray huffed and watched with with a faint frown as he scurried away and conversed frantically with a few other employees, a few of whom each turned to throw wide eyed looks at their boss.

“As he should be,” he muttered, finally turning to Mick and offering his hand. “It was Mick, wasn’t it? I usually have an excellent ear for detail, but I must admit I normally don’t get the chance to test my accuracy while literally under fire. Everyone at Palmer Tech really does owe you a debt of gratitude, we were lucky you were here for… what did you say you were in the building for again?”

Mick looked up briefly from his perusal of the snack table as he took a big bite of a cupcake. “To rob the place,” he mumbled around his mouthful, before returning to picking through an assorted pile of cookies.

Ray blinked.

“Ah,” he said quietly.

*

By the time the police officers were done taking statements from Palmer Tech security and moving on to questioning everybody else, Mick was getting antsy. After a long period of silence, Ray had started questioning him again, but Mick had mostly fobbed him off with grunts and half-answers. Not that it was proving very effective, as Ray continued to insistently dog his steps regardless.

Mick was mostly just confused about why he hadn’t immediately called security over, or the cops. But Ray hadn’t and Mick also wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. However, there was still the question of his incriminating bag of tricks and ammo. Not to mention the slow advance of police officers across the room.

Frowning, Mick glanced around and only clocked Ray looking at him, so he shrugged and dropped the bag and then nudged it until it was under the shattered remains of a chair.

Ray’s face morphed from scrutiny into reluctant looking amusement. “Something you don’t want to share with the rest of the class?” he asked.

Mick just glared at him.

“Look, Mr…,” he started, stumbling to a halt when Mick stayed silent and then visibly re-grouping, “Mick. Mick, why don’t you stay here a moment while I talk to my staff. Whatever your, er, reasons for being here, we really do you owe you a great deal for busting up the party when you did.”

“Right,” Mick said, eyebrows drawing together but otherwise not moving.

“Right? Right, okay,” Ray said, rubbing his hands together and then cocking his head to the side with an amused huff of a breath to survey Mick again before striding off towards the nearest huddled group. Mick just watched with narrowed eyes, occasionally chomping through one of the cookies he’d stuffed in his pocket, as Ray did the rounds. There was a lot of shoulder claps, hand shakes, and reassuring smiles involved from what he could see.

Definitely wimps, the lot of them.

By the time Ray had done a full circuit of the room and returned to Mick’s side, he looked a little less sure of himself.

“So,” he said, after taking a deep breath. “We have a small problem.”

Mick just raised an eyebrow.

“My otherwise usually marvellously competent assistant has jumped to a few conclusions about our, erm, relationship-”

Mick’s other eyebrow raised.

“- and thus about what you were doing here in the first place. From what I can gather, those assumptions are also pretty much the only reason you aren’t already being escorted down to the nearest precinct for questioning.”

Mick pursed his lips thoughtfully, and watched an odd little series of expressions cross Ray’s face.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Ray continued after a moment, sighing and rubbing at his forehead, “but do you have somewhere to stay? No? Alright, this is probably one of my dumber decisions but I feel like I owe you at least this much; how about you leave with me now, I don’t ask too many questions, and we can sort out what you were really doing here later. Away from the cops.”

Mick narrowed his eyes, and asked suspiciously, “why would you do that?”

Ray held his hands out helplessly in front of him. “I actually couldn’t explain it to you right now, it just feels like the right thing to do for the stranger who decided to nearly take a bullet for me instead of steal from me. So, if you could promise not to rob me blind before tomorrow, then maybe we can slip out the side entrance now before that detective with the beady eyes gets all the way over here and starts asking us both some awkward questions. What do you say?”

“Sure,” Mick said after a moment, reaching down and hooking his bag back out from it’s half-hearted hiding place with a shrug and yet another eye-roll. If he spent much more time around these suited idiots his eyes were going to roll right out of his head. “It’s your funeral.”

Ray chuckled and started leading the way in a slightly harried fashion. “That’s funny,” he said, and then stumbled a little and looked back nervously at Mick over his shoulder. “That _was_ a joke, right?”

Mick just rolled his eyes.

*

When Mick woke up to sunlight, it was with a start. He’d tossed and turned half the night on the stupid, slippery sheets, and the concierge had glared daggers when he’d tried wandering the building instead. Mick had also noticed that this Palmer guy had a lot of shiny things dotted about the place once he’d decided to stick to the inside of the penthouse instead, but while his fingers itched at the sight of them, it didn’t seem right somehow.

He’d given his word. 

Plus, he kind of wanted to see what breakfast was like around here before he committed to really pissing the guy off.

So, instead of replacing his ammo with valuables and slipping off into the night, he’d eventually dozed off. Having completely forgotten he’d re-opened the curtains Ray had so carefully shut while giving him a tour, and without factoring in the complete lack of shade when you were many tens of stories up.

Grumbling, he gave up and staggered out of bed and somewhat vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

“Everything seems to be where I left it, I see,” was the first rather jovial thing out of Ray’s mouth, but Mick ignored it in favour of staring. Ray was standing over the stove in an apron with a spatula in hand, looking cheery and unruffled despite having still been showing Mick around his apartment at four in the morning.

“Would you prefer scrambled eggs, or French toast? Or both?” Ray asked, still smiling brightly.

Mick collapsed hard onto a seat at the breakfast bar, and mumbled a request for both before dumbly watching Ray flip said toast.

“Juice? Coffee?” 

Mick just nodded, while Ray started shifting plates and mugs up onto the bench between them.

“Why doesn’t someone else do your cooking?” he asked some time later, after a long and relatively quiet meal of Ray’s one sided questions while Mick pulled faces at him and kept eating. “You can afford a cook.”

“I enjoy doing some things for myself,” Ray said cheerily, apparently oblivious to Mick’s rather painful confusion at the idea of being that rich and not having servants to do everything for you. “Was it okay? I can ring down for something else if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“It was fine,” Mick grunted.

“Great,” Ray said, pushing his plate away and clearing his throat. “Which brings us to the, er, events of last night. I’ve already fielded a few calls this morning, and it seems that the police have the surveillance footage from the building showing you entering. I’m going to take a guess and say that you probably don’t want them digging into who you are?”

Mick frowned into his coffee, and reluctantly inclined his head in agreement.

“And _I_ have a board of directors currently baying for blood that someone could waltz right in off the street,” Ray sighed, and started gathering their plates to carry to the sink. “It’s going to jeopardise some of our security clearances, apparently, if I can’t offer a good reason for you to have been there. So I have a proposal. You hang around a little, continue to not rob me blind, and we… pretend to be dating.”

“You’re joking,” Mick growled.

“I can see why you’d think that, but I promise you I’m not,” Ray said with a nervous chuckle. “Of course, if you’d like to instead explain to my board of directors that our relationship isn’t really all that serious after all, please be my guest.”

Mick shrugged and crossed his arms. “Not my problem what they think,” he pointed out with a satisfied look.

“By all means,” Ray said, crossing his arms as well and leaning casually back against the nearest bench with a smirk. “If you would prefer that they call the police and report their suspicions.”

Mick’s lips tugged down at the corners, and Ray ducked his head to hide a smile.

“What do I have to do?”

Ray’s head shot up and he let the wide smile that had been lurking burst free. Mick was pretty sure his own face was very clearly conveying that he thought Ray was an idiot, but Ray looked too pleased to care.

“Just move a few things in if you have any, and maybe we could also go out and be seen together? I promise it won’t be anything too strenuous and I’ll make sure you have anything you could possibly need while you’re here. My penthouse is certainly big enough for us to have our own space, and….”

Mick stared at Ray until his enthusiasm started to die down a little. Then he nodded.

“Fine,” was all he said, but apparently it was all Ray needed to hear to launch into action.

*

Ray seemed a little thrown when he realised that going to pick up Mick’s things meant going to fetch a second bag from the vacant office across the street-

“Told you I was there to rob the place,” Mick said, watching Ray’s reaction warily.

\- but he took it in stride quickly enough. They made it back to the apartment just in time to stash the bag away before the same trembling assistant and a little entourage of people in suits and sternly cut dresses descended. There was a lot of hushed and hurried talking, and then Ray was promptly distracted by a ringing cellphone being shoved into his hand while the rest stood around throwing not so subtle curious glances at Mick.

Mick made a point of looming over the assistant until his voice started cracking at inopportune times. Then he wandered off, satisfied, and left them to it.

Poking around, he found what looked to be a second, smaller living room - _rich people_ , he snorted - and kicked his feet up happily on the carefully polished coffee table. It looked like it might scuff easily. He shuffled around a little, getting as comfortable as humanly possible, and smiled.

If he was going to be trapped in an apartment while they did boring suit things, he was going to get his revenge. Via coffee table.

*

“We never got a chance to discuss our relationship before all of that,” Ray said later that evening, waving vaguely towards the front of the apartment which his staff had colonised all day. “We should work out a story.”

Mick gave him his best unimpressed look. “I don’t do stories.”

“You do now,” Ray said. “You saw everybody’s faces when you emerged at lunch. It was lucky some of the board had dropped by to yell at me because they were surprised enough to see you actually here to stop asking questions, but that won’t last for long.”

Mick just raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I know, we need pet names for each other!”

“No.”

Ray looked at him with wide, beseeching eyes. “I really think it would help,” he insisted earnestly. 

“I don’t say sweetheart, or babe, or love, or-“

“There must be something you like about me that you could use, instead.”

Mick looked him up and down. “You have a lot of hair,” he grunted.

Ray looked pleased, running a hand across his head. “You like my hair?”

“It looks ridiculous,” Mick said, smirking. “I’ll call you Haircut.”

Then he stood up and headed back to his room, cutting the conversation short.

“Um, I don’t think…. That wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” Ray called after him. “Seriously?”

*

“I think I owe you a day out,” Ray said thoughtfully the next morning at breakfast, watching Mick flip his butter knife over and over in his hand.

“Know any good shooting ranges?” Mick asked immediately.

“No,” Ray said slowly. “But there’s an amazing art exhibition I’ve been meaning to-“

Mick snorted.

“Okay, uh, how about that new museum opening downtown about the-”

“Do I look like someone who does museums?”

“Right, no, probably not,” Ray said, looking Mick over and pursing his lips. “What were you planning to steal from me? The first night we met. You must have been after something in particular.”

Mick chuckled. “I was heading for your labs. Heard you had goons working on a new fireproof fabric and a few other goodies like that.”

Ray stared, clearly thrown. “What do you need fireproof fabric for?”

Mick shrugged. “Everybody’s gotta have a hobby.”

Ray blinked.

“Right, well, I know where we’re going at least,” he announced after a long moment of confused silence. “Grab your jacket, I have a lab tour to give.”

*

“That was fun, Haircut,” Mick said later, spinning around on a lab stool. “But I’m hu-“

“Do you want to go out for dinner with me?”

“- Huh.”

Ray shuffled his feet and ducked his head, somehow managing to look up through his fringe at Mick despite looming around at a ridiculous bazillion feet tall. “I know an amazing Italian place just a few blocks from here.”

“This one of your fake relationship stunt ideas?” 

“No, I mean, yes it would probably help, but,” Ray said, pausing occasionally as he spoke to stare at Mick and then flushing as he rushed to continue as if he hadn’t been distracted. “You were about to say you were hungry? It can just be… food. Because you’re hungry. Nothing-“

“They going to expect me to look fancy?” Mick cut him off, indicating his ripped jeans and scuffed boots with a tip of his head when Ray looked confused.

“Oh!” Ray said, face clearing. “I doubt it, I mean, given what I’ve spent there over the years I’d be very surprised if…. No, no, I’m sure you’ll be fine. You, um, you look great, anyway.”

He ducked his head again and rubbed at the back of his neck, flushing harder.

“So, um-“

“Sure, Haircut,” Mick said. “Whatever you want.”

*

“You know, I don’t think I ever asked,” Ray said to his risotto while Mick watched in bemusement, “whether you have somewhere else you need to be?”

Mick shrugged and took a long sip of his beer. “Not for a few more weeks,” he offered eventually.

Ray toyed with his fork. “That’s good,” he said, and then looked up with wide eyes. “I mean, for our cover. If you have time to hang around a little longer. If you wanted. I’m not- I don’t-“

“Breathe, Haircut.”

“Right,” Ray said heavily, eyes dropping back to his food. “Right, it’s just. It’s been nice, having someone around the place.”

Mick watched him for a long time, then sighed when nothing else seemed forthcoming.

“I like the food here,” he offered, rolling his eyes when Ray looked delighted about it. “When I have to go, in a few weeks, it’s. I travel a lot. I could drop by, sometimes. If the investigation is still going.”

“Yes, right, the investigation. It probably will be,” Ray said eagerly. “In fact, I’m sure it will be. I’ll make sure, um, that is, I mean our board is a stickler for doing things thoroughly so they’ll probably insist the police triple check everything, and ah. It probably will be.”

“Okay,” Mick said, draining his beer and then frowning at it until Ray called the waiter over to fetch them another. “Cool,” he said quietly.

Some time later, after two rounds of dessert and Ray had dealt with the bill, Mick stood up so abruptly that his chair clattered along the floor behind him. Then Mick glared the nearest restaurant staff member into submission and stole Ray’s jacket from their hands to hold out for him to shrug into.

Ray offered a small smile and a thanks, but Mick shrugged. “You said we needed to make it good for the stalkers,” he said, glancing at the tall glass windows fronting the room and the small but still growing mob of reporters peering through it.

“Right,” Ray said, smile sliding away. “For the pretend- right, thank you.”

“I’ve only been to nice places with chicks,” Mick said quickly, and then stopped and corrected himself. “I don’t normally go to nice places.”

Ray’s expression softened again. “I had a good time,” he said.

“Beer’s alright,” Mick said, then glared at an approaching waiter who quickly turned tail and fled.

“Ready to brave the hoard with me?” Ray asked quietly, and when Mick glanced back he was still smiling. 

“Why not?” Mick said with a shrug, and let Ray toss an arm around his shoulders and steer him towards the exit.

*

When the trembling assistant let himself in two weeks later during breakfast, he announced that the investigation had been closed. He also said that the board was very grateful for Ray’s partner assisting with the enquiries, at which point Mick glared at him so hard that he burst into tears.

“You didn’t need to do that to poor James,” Ray said when he returned from ushering James back to the front door with profuse apologies.

“Trembling assistant has a name?” Mick asked, not looking back up from his coffee.

“Trembling assist- yes he has a name!”

After a long and faintly outraged silence, Mick finally looked up and found Ray glaring at him. “What?”

“Mick, you can’t treat my staff like that! He’s a good worker!”

Mick shrugged and drained the rest of his coffee, before standing up and brushing past Ray. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said with a leer.

“That. That’s not. You’re completely missing the point,” Ray said, then opened his mouth to continue but was cut off by the whap of fabric hitting his face.

“I don’t do ‘points’.”

Ray gaped, pulling Mick’s shirt off his head and staring at it, and then across the room at Mick’s retreating back.

“Come back here!” he cried, finally dropping the shirt and scrambling after him.

Mick just smirked, and disappeared into the bedroom.


End file.
